And for every match house on the outskirts of the northern regions there is a father and a mother. There is a family in ganglands. Symbolic apartheid. Symbolic ethnic cleansing. A symbolic difference between wealth and poverty, powerless marginalized young people who have no skills. Only unemployed in the face and in the shadows. Anticipating every glimpse of their personality, castle, stock and trunk. The ammunition looked like Braille for the blind. All young people, they must be initiated into a gang. They need to know how to knife, how to strike, how to make a knife, a knife that can go for a kill. For each wedding, sometimes there is a wedding bouquet, the bride and her wedding are sometimes in the Methodist hall of the church or sometimes not. For every Baptist, Protestant, Presbyterian, Mormons, Muslims, there is an agnostic. I was lucky that I just avoided this lifestyle on the skin of my teeth when I grew up in the Southern end before we were forcibly removed by the police and the government of that time.
My son, when he sometimes says, is hard for me to follow (he has so many ideas). It is difficult to understand what he is talking about. He speaks fast. He uses violent gestures many times when he makes a point. I wish they all came to me with me. I wish they were all saved, baptized. But we all worship the same God. For some of us, he is right here with us on our planet, next to us, walking next to us at our hour or time of need. For others, such as my wife, God is on the astral plane. I'm trying to understand her. Love has a delicate smell. There was a time when we had good times. We will not eat. There will be a movie night. We will leave the children at home and go see the movie. But now it is different. She is a grandmother. I am a grandfather. Overnight we become different people. It is as if the usual insanity that other people call reality has both of us. The times were good. The times are still good.
I remember my mother was a domestic worker. Mind. UPA. And hotly border-religious.
I remember so much about my childhood with such clarity. Thought patterns come in waves. Their crests are beautiful, gorgeous, electrified, the Cheshire cat is magical.
Once upon a time, more years than I remember, I decided not to return to the university to complete my teacher’s degree, but rather to complete my post. Botanical honors at the University of the Western Cape. Because of my political past, they refused to accept me. I decided to study and pay my salary in order to repay the government loan I received to complete my studies. In January 1965, I received a degree in my high school at South End High School. I was excited and looked forward to this problem, despite the fact that my teaching staff was very busy. For the standard six, I had social studies and general science. I took standard sevens for history and taught the history of another class to Afrikaans, and then my standard nine classes. I taught physiology and hygiene. It was one of the main reasons that prevented me from achieving success in my teaching career. Many of the students were older than me, and I studied in the Afrikaans environment, although I never had a training certificate. It was difficult for students. I felt upset, as if I could not reach them. Of course, I did not understand that I could not relate to them, and they could not relate to me. They were largely undisciplined. Large classes made it impossible for effective learning.
During the first three months I managed to agree that I would never come in April, I began to slow down. I could not concentrate on my lesson plans and it was easier to give up. I often fell into bouts of depression and self-pity spells. It was hard for me to learn. I was completely disinterested and demonized. I found a way out of social interaction at school and at home. I went to school in the morning and stayed in class until the end of the school day. As I said, there was no discipline in the classrooms. It made things even tougher for me. I was disorganized. The disciples continued to act. They did what they liked. The disciples broke out in turmoil, I dragged myself through school day. I had no help or support from my colleagues or people whom I considered to be my friends. I also had no appetite, and I could not sleep at night. I was like a zombie from a Hollywood B movie pulling myself to school, home and back. The doctor diagnosed me with a vitamin deficiency. The anxiety overwhelmed me when I was more and more behind my lessons. I was gripped by guilt in the injustice that I did to my students. I asked myself questions, like who would answer if the students had to pass exams. Can I blame the director, parents, students, or myself? Now I felt that I was in a bottomless pit and in a dark tunnel. In those days I was always worried. The feeling of despondency began to overwhelm me, and suicide seemed to be the only way out. My thought process slowed down almost until it stopped. My mind was completely overshadowed by negativity. After school, I will spend most of my time in my bedroom. I vividly remember how I put a plastic bag on my head. He burst before I choked. My mother was the only one who stood by me at this difficult time in my life. She prayed for me and saw that I had something to eat, there are clean clothes. If it were hell, what followed was an even greater hell.
The depravity of depression appeared and the symptoms prevailed in direct contrast with the previous stage. I became talkative, loud, agitated. I walk around the school and the neighborhood where I lived. I visited and talked to people I never knew. Within two weeks I spent all my savings, which I religiously accumulated for six months on useless items such as antiques, liquor, old music records. Gifts were brought to people I met for the first time, and I did not spend time with a man. I did not sleep at night. I did not care about my well-being. I did not listen to people who had my best interests. I could not bring myself to eat anything and walked long distances. On the streets and streets. I decided to take a walk along the National Road to Cape Town. The road was dark. It didn't matter, since I had a lot of energy. I took a truck of furniture to Swellendam, and then went to the Meyer family in Bellville-South. Two ministers of the United Congregational Church recognized me as a voluntary patient at Valkenburg Psychiatric Hospital in Pinelands Cape Town. For the first time, I realized that I was in a psychiatric institution, when at admission I was given polo knitwear, khaki shorts and a pair of sandals. I was placed in a locked room. Patients came from all walks of life and suffered from all forms of mental illness. I was not diagnosed with any mental illness, but I was not released from the locked room. However, I must admit that the therapist was among other mentally ill people. However, I missed Port Elizabeth and my family. A month later, in Valkenburg Psychiatric Hospital, I went to medical school in Grout Shuur, where I wanted to be in the first place. Then I wandered around the Sixth Circuit, where I found that families clean up their homes and traditions as a result of forced removals in 1965. These residents were moved to headlands and to areas such as the Mitchell Plan, Lavenderhill. These are now gang war centers. I thought about the help of a social worker at the Groot Shuur hospital. They supplied me with cigarettes, pocket money, and a ticket for a third-class railway to Port Elizabeth. On the train, I discovered that I had left a ticket in a jacket that I shot in Cape Town. Therefore, I did not have tickets on the train, as a result of which the guard and the policeman wanted to take me out of the train at the next station. It was an attitude to believe in my explanations. When they reached Port Elizabeth, they handed me over to the police, where I had to sign an agreement that I would pay for the ticket price when I started to study again.
Then I had a manic episode in Kimberley. My services stopped at the Southern End High School. In January 1966, I was offered a temporary position in a high school on Hill Park in Kimberley. I made a serious mistake by not checking my medications. There was no psychiatrist or doctor who could prescribe mood stabilizing drugs. I arrived in Kimberley on February 1st. The first month went well. I clearly and meaningfully explained my lessons, and all hell broke loose. I experienced a great episode of mania. I could not stop myself from making serious mistakes in judgment. I took myself on to teach on Saturday morning. During this time, I consumed excess amounts of whiskey and milk. I spend long hours in school disturbing other teachers in the classroom. I created total chaos at school. I was not ready to listen to the advice of well-meaning people. I also drank alcohol. My meager salary drove, becoming an uncomfortable habit. I visited the Kemo hotel daily. I shudder to think about my mania during the interprovincial swimming tournament of the Swimming Federation of South Africa. It was attended by all the provinces from all over South Africa. I took responsibility for all the tournaments, although I did not have any knowledge about competitive swimming. From the very beginning it was a disaster. Without permission, I appointed myself manager of the Griqua team. This was extremely embarrassing for the rest of the Griqua officials. I put myself in charge of the bus that was going to transport the teams and officials to the resort along the Waal river. I entered the pool for children in pants and waistcoat, trying in vain to entertain the crowd. I visited the family in Kimberley and attended my son's toy pistol, which looked like a real gun. I walked around the area and was scared as if it was a real gun. People began to shun me when the stigma of mental illness was announced. I spent the night with a homosexual.
There is nothing sexual in that mental psychiatric illnesses like this are depicted in American films. Some people may trace their lineage along your family tree. Some people say that it’s in your nucleic acid ladder of your genes, your biochemistry. Perhaps your dendrites are simply not synchronized with the levels of dopamine and serotonin in your brain during this cycle, or season, or day. Maybe you had a stressful day. Mental illness is governed by equal indicators of loss, a sense of destruction, truths are acute, you are aware of the isolation that you can feel from time to time, in fact you are aware of the environment and the landscape in which you find yourself, and the intense mourning that can startle you . Keep in mind this is not who you are. And he does not define who you are, as a person, your character or your personality. Doesn't matter what they are? to tell. They do not have your psychiatrist for their name. You are a man. Pain is what comes along with the territory of humanity. Understand this, learn from it, go to those that are in sharks. (or should I say it's stigma) dangerous waters with your moral compass. This land is damaged. We are damaged. Damaged people. Ruined. As I said before, we live in a traumatized country. All the fabric of society is traumatized. The nuclear family as a unit is injured.
So now we must learn to survive. How are the mentally ill, the most displaced, the most embarrassed, extremely funny and humiliated, reacting to survival? Instinct. From my point of view, we all have to rely on this at some point in our life. And it works every time. Just remember that you must swim before you begin to walk on the ground. And if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again. You can mourn the fact that now that you are old, it also means that you are more comfortable with your principles, more in harmony with virtuous qualities as you grow up, you also become wiser, understand your mental illness, your relapses, your recovery . Yes, some people who are mentally ill hear voices. It's as scary for them as it is for you. Some people see things, have hallucinations, and this is very real for them. It's as scary for them as it is for you. Some men, although mostly women who are mentally ill, may become erratic, seeing this as a substitute for the real intimate and unconditional love that they should have received from their parents in the first place. Know that you belong to the word wherever there is a disability, mental illness or refugee status. Be aware that having a mental illness does not mean self-punishment or self-imposed exile. You have one life to live. It is expensive. So why not start now. Do not let your mental illness feed you, scar you, harm you, saturate you, starve. If you are mentally ill, you have the right not to harm yourself, but you have the right to accept yourself, to love everyone who you are unconditionally. People might think that you are not good enough, fairly thin, quite pretty, but this is just an opinion. Determining if the glass is half full (positive vibrations are on) or half of it is empty (negative vibrations are turned off). Your conscious mind is constantly talking about your subconscious.
In April 1966, I returned to Port Elizabeth. My mania decreased, and I received a temporary academic post at Helvandale High School. It was located in Helenvale, which was a sub-economic region and was created as a result of the demining scheme of the municipality and government slums. Soon the district was crowded with three primary schools, and one high school was built within three years. Ten people had to use one external toilet. The streets were littered with litter and mud. Pupils came mostly barefoot to school and without lunch. In my class there were more than 60 children. There was a shortage of desks and writing materials. These circumstances made my school days at the beginning difficult, sad and depressing.
I took Zoology as one of my subjects. I collected stray cats. I put one on a glass sheet, which I covered with a bell, and put chloroform on cotton wool and put it under the bell tower. I underestimated the power of a narcotic cat.
In November 1966, the Education Inspector had to prepare for moderation for universal science and social studies. At that time I got into another deep episode. I slowed down, demonized, to perform the most simple tasks. I felt a deep deep depression. In the absence of the director, the deputy did not show sympathy for my depression. The day before the inspector arrived, my work was not yet completed, but the inspector Mr. Svanepol ordered me to leave school immediately, despite an explanation for my depression. Fortunately for me, the director has just arrived from Cape Town. He assessed the situation, told me to go to the doctor and go back to training, when he felt well again. When I left school to catch the bus, I was stunned by suicidal thoughts. I had a strong desire for the bus to crash. It was not. I was alone at home and decided to overdose on pills. It turned out that it has the opposite effect. It didn't even make me sleepy or sleepy. The pills I made were too small to have a serious effect. I got into the Port Elizabeth Mental Health Society, where I received help.
Suicide was in my power, as far as I was constantly thinking about overdosing on pills. Fortunately, my early work with my mother removed these negative thoughts from my mind.
I was taken to the modest offices of the Port Elizabeth Mental Health Society on Brussel Street in North End, where social workers, in particular, Jann Hollingshead, spent almost three hours of therapy with me, so I realized that suicide is not the only way out of crisis situations. The next day, I made an appointment with a psychiatrist at Livingston Hospital. He diagnosed me with manic depression, also known as bipolar mood disorder. The seriousness of my condition required five sessions of electroconvulsive therapy. On both sides of my head was a white patch, which gave me the nickname of Western actor Jack Palance. It was very painful and painful when I heard these comments made by people who I thought were my friends. I was also very young. I have never heard of electroconvulsive therapy before. Since I did not know what it was, I was very noticeable in each case when I had to undergo treatment. However, the white doctor, who was at the age of fifty, explained to me that the seriousness of my major depressive episode required this treatment. Он также дал мне уверенность, что лечение не является гарантией того, что я должен выздороветь. Я не знал, что, черт возьми, происходит в тот день, когда я покинул больницу в тот день. Мне было двадцать лет. Я не знаю, когда я влюбился в Джанна. Она была жизнерадостной. Но я знал, что из этого ничего не выйдет. Она умерла от рака горла. Август умер от рака желудка. Жан умер от рака молочной железы. Рак прорезал тела. Рак пронизан клетками. Я представил, как клетки белых кровяных телец начинают борьбу, в то время как раковые клетки все еще проникают через них, как свободные радикалы, чтобы атаковать золотые клетки органов и тканей. Люди умирают каждый день. Каждую субботу церкви упакованы. Автостоянки, заполненные автомобилями. Люди приходят, чтобы выразить свое почтение. И иногда я был одним из них. Встряхивание рук людей. Глядя на них в глаза и говоря: «Я соболезнует вам и вашей семье. Мне очень жаль вашу потерю. & # 39; И я действительно это понимаю. Я действительно это сделал.
Сегодняшний день. Продолжайте или вы заблудитесь. Потери Джанна. Я так и не понял. Она была еще молода. У нее могла быть солнечная дорога. Я мог бы встретить ее на этой солнечной дороге. Возможно, мы могли бы иметь этих детей, семью, воспитали их в Англии. Возможно, она попросила меня, когда она была в больнице. Если бы я ушел, это означало бы ощущение закрытия обеих частей. Я не думаю, что когда-либо любил женщину, такую женщину, как Джанн Холлингсхед, так близко от наших разговоров. Любовь имеет тонкий запах. В больницах пахло мебельным лаком, средством для снятия лака, что-то антисептическое и санитарное. Я знаю, что стоя рядом с ее постелью, наблюдая, когда она спит, или дрейфует и выходит из сознания, я бы, возможно, потерял чувство самообладания, свою веру в Бога или, возможно, мы оба нашли бы закрытие. Но я хотел вспомнить ее улыбку, передав контрабанду мою любимую марку сигарет (как она помнила), и мы, заправляясь в самый чистый паб-обед, который вы могли найти в Англии, и встретились с Jann & # 39, сестра сестры и программист-муж в их прекрасном доме. Чувство приглашения, этот великий жест, как я был в восторге от знакомства с Лондоном. Я чувствовал себя как сэр Артур Конан Дойл, Шерлок Холмс. С самого начала детства я всегда чувствовал себя изгоняемым из общества. Но в лондонском городе я был новым мужчиной (я не знал, что у меня есть Джанн, я решил, что Герда была единственной женщиной для меня. И если бы она не для нее, для Абигейл, короткая остановка, для Амвросия, для Коди, для Этана, для Лорен, я не был бы тем человеком, которым я являюсь сегодня, если бы не мои ангелы). Но иногда я думаю о себе в Колумбийском университете. Я бы был уникальным, потому что вы не считаете, что шагание не сбегает? Иногда я думаю об этой солнечной дороге. Иногда я думаю много Джанна. Как я отпустил ее, даже не попрощавшись. Это было не очень джентльменно из-за меня, потому что я очень сильно думал о ней, и она обо мне.
В 1974 году я получил стипендию Британского совета, чтобы завершить исследование умственно отсталых людей в Англии и Уэльсе и реализовать его в Южной Африке. Это была очень ценная стипендия, поскольку она покрывала билет на возврат самолета, плату за обучение, книги, теплую одежду и даже пособие на содержание. Я был очень доволен, взволнован и доволен, чтобы взять стипендию и завершить соответствующее исследование. Все пошло хорошо до рождественского перерыва, когда английские студенты отправились домой на каникулы. Я с моим другом, Джонсом Мсеке и другими африканскими студентами остался позади, чтобы обеспечить себе. Я воспользовался возможностью организовать поездку через туристическое агентство Cosmos, чтобы посетить пять или шесть европейских стран. Это была мечта для меня, так как я посетил Брюссель в Бельгии, Кельне и Франкфурте в Германии, Флоренции, Ватикане, Риме, Париже, а затем вернулся через Довер. Одна из самых замечательных катастроф произошла со мной на таможне в Довере. Меня поместили в комнату с багажом, где меня попросили открыть мои дела, чтобы таможенники могли обыскать мою одежду. Они также задали мне ряд вопросов относительно моего места происхождения, почему я приехал в Лондон и когда снова собирался вернуться в Южную Африку. Примерно через два часа мне разрешили пойти. Затем я приземлился на поезде до станции Юстон, которая находилась недалеко от резиденции. Я был очень, очень подавлен, подавлен и грустен в происходящем в Дувре. И я просто хотел поехать домой в Южную Африку, но мой друг Джонс ждал меня. Он помог мне с багажом и отвел меня в свою комнату. Я понял, что главный эпизод депрессии уже на пути. У меня не было аппетита. Я был устало устал. Я не мог заснуть, и я не знал, что делать, потому что как раз перед тем, как я покинул молодого чернокожего студента из Кении, который был маниакальным депрессивным, был отправлен домой, не получив подходящего лечения. Я думал, что та же судьба столкнется со мной. Я не мог встать с постели по утрам. И я ответил только на упорный поступок моего друга Джонса. Он вытащил меня из постели. Он увидел, что я оделась, вымыта и фактически заставила меня пойти в соседний ресторан, где я мог бы позавтракать. После этого я почувствовал себя намного лучше, но недостаточно. Он отвел меня в свою комнату, где он разобрал мою одежду и поместил грязную одежду в сумку и отвел меня в прачечную, где он увидел, что я вымыл одежду.
Джонс спас меня. Я бы не сидел, где я сегодня, в окружении любящей и поддерживающей семьи и моего первого внука, сына моего сына, если бы не Джонс Мчек. Джонс не только видел мои физические потребности, но и всегда поощрял и стимулировал меня, чтобы позволить темным облакам негативности и депрессии подняться. К счастью, когда университет снова открылся, я чувствовал себя намного лучше и мог принимать мои блюда в столовой и посещать лекции, а также посещение школы в английской сельской местности. Я должен подчеркнуть, что мне очень понравилась зелень сельской местности. Я никогда не забуду свою поездку из Лондона в Глазго на Экспресс, который путешествовал с одного конца Англии до остальной части Глазго в Шотландии. Впервые я мог оценить, где английские литературные фигуры и поэты могут получить вдохновение. Лондон. Прогулка по улицам и по улицам. Молодой человек, у которого была комната в общежитии рядом с моим, всегда приглашал своих друзей на кофе, но меня никогда не приглашали. Он был министром, теперь его называют пастором. Он никогда не разговаривал со мной. Никогда не смотрел в мою сторону. Но были люди, которые были добры. Киндер мне кажется, потому что они видят, что я в депрессии. Мишель, Сью, Ян, мои воспоминания о безумии, мое образование в школе жизни, религия, университет Буша, и когда-либо я обнаружил, что постоянный баланс я искал всю свою жизнь. Я обнаружил, что баланс в работе моего сообщества, моя яркая вера, уважение, преданность и любовь, которые у меня были для моей жены, любовь, которую я испытывал к своим детям. Воспоминания о моей семье, которые пришли навестить меня в психиатрической клинике Хантерскрай, ярки в моем сознании. Мои дети были все еще очень маленькими. Мы с женой шептали друг другу, пока они играли, так невинно в дальнем конце сада. Они будут обнимать меня и целовать, прежде чем они уйдут. Мое сердце разбило, чтобы увидеть, как их головы в задней части машины безумно прощаются со мной. Мой сын, мой сын, его волосы темные и кудрявые, уже его любимая мать. Девушки цеплялись друг за друга, ожидая, когда я подниму траву на моих штанах, помогая моей жене встать, которая лучше всего улыбается, ее лучшая нога вперед. Мой старейший, о-о-серьезный на переднем сиденье со своей матерью и средним ребенком с улыбкой из Чеширской кошки, говорящей: «Мы скоро увидимся с папой. До завтра. & # 39; Каждый год или около того это повторялось. Госпитализация с последующим выздоровлением, затем рецидив, и очень скоро мои дети выросли, и они больше не были ласковыми детьми. Вместо этого они стали мятежными, озабоченными подростками, которые часто не могли найти слова, чтобы описать, что они чувствуют и думают. Я пропустил дни своей невинности, как будто я пропустил свои годы в университете Буша.
Когда дело доходит до мании, это крушение. Когда дело доходит до депрессии, я иду капут. Я вижу только туннель света, проходящий по периферии моего зрения. Туннель света, который вы видите, когда у вас есть опыт почти смерти. Иногда депрессия может быть такой. Перемножение жидкости. Заставьте вас задуматься о том, что случилось с вами в детстве. Травматические вещи, о которых вы, скорее, не должны думать. Вы знаете, что занимаетесь любовью. Или есть барбекю на пляже.
